measure my length (along the ground)
by TenTenD
Summary: Duncan Targaryen chose the crown instead of Jenny. His sister, Rhaelle, took to the North and his brother heeded the words of a witch. And chaos followed, as it usually did.
1. Chapter 1

i. Rhaelle smiled sadly at the other woman. "Love is a sweet song, pleasant to listen but not for the faint of heart." She held out a handkerchief. "My brother has his duties and you would do well not to keep him from them."

Jenny nodded unhappily. The whole weight of the world seemed to rest upon her shoulder in that moment. Rhaelle could not help but take pity on the poor distraught creature. She held the other's hand in a gentle manner. "It is for the best."

The realm needed peace in order to thrive. And if they were to have peace, her brother had to wed Argelle Baratheon.

It was one of those sad songs, Rhaelle reckoned.

ii. "The North? I am to secure the North?" Rhaelle blinked slowly. "How shall I do that, father mine? To the best of my knowledge, Lord Stark is wedded."

"You are to wed Errold Stark, my daughter." Rhaelle considered those words for a few moments. The King, however, had more to say. "He is a capable man, willing to serve the Crown. We need the North, Rhaelle, in case the Baratheons get other ideas."

Lyonel Baratheon was a dangerous man. It paid to be well prepared in any case.

That rather perfect piece of understanding prompted Rhaelle to nod her head. "What a pity it is that you were not born a man. You would have made a great king."

Alas the fates had made her a woman. Rhaelle simply shrugged.

iii. Errold Stark was a pleasant youth, Rhaelle found. He helped her out of the wheelhouse, gingerly placing her hand on his arm. There was something rather shy about him, a bashfulness which she found appealing.

If there was ever a complaint she could make, then it would be his height. A was just her own height, which was not very impressive. But Errold was lean and quick, which put Rhaelle in the mind of a wolf. Might as well, since she would soon become a wolf herself.

"It is freezing here," were her first words to her future husband.

Good-natured laughter sounded all around her and a thick cloak was draped on her shoulders.

iv. "My lady," Errold called her attention softly. He held out to her a cup of wine, the steam from the hot liquid spreading about. "This shall warm you." Rhaelle could think of another more pleasant manner of warming herself, but she took the cup graciously and held it to her lips.

Grey eyes were locked on her face. As if under some enchantment, Errold continued to gaze at her. Rhaella smiled and passed the cup to him. "Now you drink," she ordered.

Blushing, no doubt aware of the implications, Errold took a sip too. It was Rhaelle's turn to watch him attentively.

v. Snow was falling from the darkened skies, but despite that the weather was not as harsh as Rhaelle had expected. The Septon droned on and one, his severe face likely made even more severe by the fact that he'd been forced to perform the ceremony in front of the old weirwood tree.

It was a beautiful tree. Rhaelle looked at the blood-coloured leaves and the white bark. Those red eyes, ever vigilant, watched them all. There was a sense of serenity about it.

The three-headed dragon fell to the ground and in its place a direwolf was placed upon her shoulders. Rhaelle leaned in to kiss her husband.

Northerners cheered all around them.

vi. Marna Locke birthed a healthy babe, a son and heir for House Stark. He was named Rickard. The pup, for that was what children were called in the house of the wolf, was ever curious and willing to take himself off on long – at least by his standards – adventures as he grew up. He was the bane of his mother's existence and the sun on her sky.

Less enthusiastic about rolling around in the dirt and come home with cuts and gashes was Lyarra Stark. Just a bit younger than the heir of the house, Lyarra was the beloved daughter of Princess Rhaelle and her Stark husband. And though she'd come into the world the very image of her father to the naked eye, her heart and soul were those of her mother.

vii. Branda, cousin to Rickard and Lyarra, was a sweet simple girl of a cheery disposition and many talents. Having grown up together, the three of them were as close as any siblings could be. That occasionally small skirmishes would ensue bothered no one.

"Children will be children," Rhaelle often made the observation when any of them were caught in their mischief. Of course, that did not mean their deeds would not go unpunished. Justice was a strict mistress and she practiced a bruising sort of love. Especially to those deserving of it.

But the children were loved, joyful and cared for.

viii. "Have you heard the news?" Branda whispered in Lyarra's era as they sat down at the table, filling their bowled with porridge. Lyarra merely shook her head. Branda could be counted on to gather every scrap of gossip and bring it to her eras. "The King shall come."

That was news indeed. "The King? Your are certain?"

"Aye," Brands confirmed. "He shall bring his children, but also his niece and nephew."

Prince Aemon, the King's son, had already been promised to a Dornish Princess, barely born that one. Prince Aemon was the King's second child. There was an older daughter, a feeble-witted creature, dangerous only to those who bored easily. Princess Maela she was called. The niece and nephew were children of the King's brother, Jaehaerys.

ix. The witch shook her head, the row of sharp teeth slicing through the tender meat. Jaehaerys rubbed his hands together, trying to determine what his next move should be. "You are certain of it? They must wed?" A nod was his answer.

Shaera touched his arm, her gentleness soothing. "Then they shall wed." When their father had banished Jenny of Oldstones from court, everyone had thought the witch would leave with her mistress, yet the woman had done no such thing. She had, instead, attached herself to Jaehaerys Targaryen, becoming a trusted person in his eyes.

And her words held power with the King's brother and his wife.

x. Entering the room quietly and reaching Errold, Rhaelle brushed her length against her husband's. She kissed his cheek and giggled like a maiden just flowered when he instinctively turned his head so that they mouths could meet. "Stand still," she admonished, felling his arms go around her.

Unfortunately, Errold had long since lost his shyness around her. "Lady wife, tempting a wild beast can be dangerous." His grip tightened on her. Rhaelle pushed against him, though she did not fight his hold. It was a thrilling game.

"But 'tis a wild beast I wish to play with," she whispered against his mouth, hoping that Lyarra was kept busy by her cousin.


	2. Chapter 2

i. "I've heard that they eat their young," Aerys offered, his usual streak of cruelty shining through. "It's considered a delicacy of sorts. They serve it with gravy."

Maela grasped, though Rhaella doubted the maiden actually understood the gravity of Aerys' claim. She levelled a hard stare at her brother. "Leave off, Aerys. Quit filled her head with such gruesome tales." She patted her cousin's arm gently. "Don't listen to a thing he says."

"It is not true then?" Maela questioned, somewhat bewildered. Her guileless mind could not conceive that someone would speak an untruth.

"Skagosi are the cannibals, not the Northmen." Aerys was laughing behind his palm. "Do you think our grandfather would have sent aunt Rhaelle there if they were such dangerous a people?"

ii. Her hand met his upper arm, slapping against the flesh. Aerys jumped up at that and sent a scowl her way. Maela slept peacefully. "What did you do that for?" he hissed, pushing her away.

Rhaella snorted. "As if you don't know. You cannot tell her such things, brother. Maela is a dear creature but she hasn't two logical thoughts to rub together. Do you remember what happened the last time you told her something like this?"

It had almost caused a scandal and the messenger from the Summer Isles had not been easy to placate. Aerys laughed at the memory. "You needn't be so concerned."

"Apparently I do," she contradicted.

iii. Argelle Baratheon rode beside her ladies-in-waiting. "What news of our dear Dornish friend?" she asked of Velena Velaryon who was holding the letters. As her age progressed the Queen found that her sight grew more and more useless to her. All images were hazy and she found it extremely difficult to concentrate. Even listening to news from friends became a trial.

"She is well, Your Majesty. She is expecting again." The women tittered lightly. "And so soon after the little Princess was born too."

The little Princess is, of course, the Queen's future daughter in law. Elia Martell shall wed her sweet Aemon – the only blessing which sprung from her marriage to Duncan.

iv. Aemon sat his horse admirably. Many a people had wondered at the seemingly innate talent in such a young child. But then, Aemon was the pride of his parents and of the real, He was sharp and quick, well-behaved and showed much skill for weaponry. He could do no wrong, on that all agreed.

Duncan held his head up high. Argelle, whatever her faults were, had done very well in educating their son. He could almost forgive her usurping Jenny's place. He could almost forgive his own father for forcing him into the match. What he could and would not forgive was the fact that Jenny had been driven away, made to flee like a mongrel, though she'd been innocent.

To this day, he'd found no trace of her.

v. "Do you think the King will allow us to pray to the heart tree in the godswood?" Rhaella whispered to her brother, distracting him from the book he'd been reading.

"I suppose you could ask him that, if you want to burn at the stake." Aerys closed the book carefully and placed it next to him. "We're already in trouble as it is. Do you think behaving like heathens is going to help out situation?"

"Why would you say that? Don't we swear by the old gods too?" Rhaella gave him a challenging look. "Well?"

"Gods be good. Fine. We do. But that still doesn't mean we'll get away with it."

vi. Rhaelle greeted her brother warmly, kissing both his cheeks. Argelle too received a symbolic kiss, though it was given with much less warmth and visible obligation. Princess Maela she was most attentive to, and Prince Aemon she was cordial towards. Rhaella and Aerys found themselves enveloped in a suffocating hug.

Behind the enthusiastic aunt, they could see their cousin, Lyarra Stark fighting to hold back a smile. It was the cause of much embarrassment to be mauled in public by an over affectionate relative.

"Lyarra, come, we must make proper introductions." The smile dropped from the girl's face. It was only fair.

vii. Rickard had been thrown in the Prince's path, encouraged to make a friend of the heir to the throne. Lyarra, on the other hand, was tasked, along with Branda, to entertain Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen who had chosen to remain with them. And she was having a hard time of it. Especially where Aerys was concerned.

"This is how it works, he said, crossing his arms over his chest, "you girls go do whatever you want and leave me alone. I'll not be part of any embroidery circles."

However much she wished to punch the nasty smile off of his face, Lyarra held back on account of a spotless upbringing. "I hope you have a nice time getting lost in the godswood then."

viii. Rhaella Targaryen was infinitely better than her brother. "He's not so bad," the sister said, a small smile playing on her lips. "But I admit that even I grow tired of his antics at times."

"He would try the patience of a saint," Branda complained, helping Maela cross the bridge. "I'm surprised you didn't smother him in his by now."

"Both the old gods and the new frown upon kinslaying." They all grew quiet, absorbing the words.

"I am certain they would forgive you," Maela said in her offhanded manner, unknowing of the comic effect her words would produce.

"I am siding with the Princess on this," Lyarra laughed.

ix. Sighing deeply, Rickard entered Lyarra's chamber. To his great surprise, his cousin was not alone as he had been led to believe. Lyarra sat up in her bed and squinted towards him as if trying to recognise him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "For the love of the gods, Rickard. We could get in so much trouble."

"I thought you wanted to see it. That's what you said." Her glare was telling, but they were both stubborn creatures. "She's sleeping anyway. She'll never even know you were gone."

Lyarra hoped to the gods that it would be so.

x. The two of then stood side by side, peering at the prone form on the ground. Lyarra reached out to touch it, but Rickard caught her hand. She turned to give him a withering look. "It's dead, Rickard. Look at it, it's not even bleeding anymore"

"How did it get here?" That question would not find its answer anytime soon. Lyarra shrugged. "Direwolves south of the Wall. Do you think they'd believe us if we told them?"

"We'd have to show them. I say we just keep this to ourselves," Lyarra offered. Rickard nodded his head. The direwolf remained where it was.


End file.
